


sweet to sour kind of thing

by Rebldomakr



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Blood, Demon Billy Hargrove, Extreme Biting, M/M, Unexplicit Gore, author doesn't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 18:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15467169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: It's a full moon.





	sweet to sour kind of thing

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed

_pleasure is just purple fading to yellow,_  
_you know how it looks on my skin?_  
_like a gift from god though that_  
_boy’s fingers are from the devil_  
_who made him a darling to tempt_  
_good souls like us to sin and sorrow_ -

Steve’s heart is pounding like his feet on the ground. He’s running from a **threat**. It’s not like most of what he’s faced in life. He feels scared, but the molten metal running through his veins burn sweeter than any adrenaline he’s experienced before. It’s damningly, **deliciously** , addictive and he can’t believe how **amazing** it feels to run to the tune of his rapid heartbeat.

He almost trips over a bump on the ground. His feet slide hard on frozen dirt. There are laughs echoing in the air, they don’t belong to him. It’s maniacal and **wild**. Untamed like anarchy but, there’s rules here and anarchy doesn’t obey any such thing that restricts it. It’s chaotic, but **controlled**. Steve’s stomach rolls when he slips over grass and he falls this time. He goes just like his stomach, banging his head on a rock and slamming against a tree.

The threat comes to him slow. Its mouth is hanging open yet, it reminds him of a snake tasting the air with its tongue. Looking for the scent of blood between oxygen and nitrogen, but blood is closest to iron though it tastes like copper. Steve knows it wants a mouthful of pennies. He hears a growl – and it’s a **real** growl. It’s a body and body shaking growl, coming from its chest and out of its mouth though it sounds like it’s coming from **everywhere**.

It gets close and, Steve closes his eyes. He tilts his head back and bares his neck. He waits until he feels hot air being breathed out onto his sweaty skin before he opens his eyes again. He can see the treetops covering expanses of the starry sky. It’s not starry like this in the city, Steve thinks, and he’s grateful he gets to see it while it tastes the air over his vulnerability. Its mouth close over it and it suckles, before teeth drag then **puncture**. It’s a bite that doesn’t just leave behind indents, it’s a bite that snaps through skin and beckons blood out onto an eager tongue.

He lets out the contents of his lungs, air that feels more important than just **air**. It doesn’t make sense even in his own head, but how else can he explain that **nothing** feels as important as the mouth attached to himself? It transforms somewhere along its pathway out into a noise. It’s airy and long. He realizes he’s got hands so he uses them, one digging past snow and grass into hard dirt while he lifts the other to grab at its hair.

And it, is an **it**. Right now, at least. It is in the body of Billy Hargrove but, this isn’t Billy. **It** is hungry for everything that Steve is and is all too willing to take it. Billy is hesitant like Hargrove isn’t synonymous to Eros, like he doesn’t know how touch kindly enough to draw out all that’s good. **It** doesn’t care, but it’s still got something in its points and edges that’s **almost** as Billy when it’s just him.

The mouth leaves and Steve makes his head stay in place. Nails lengthen in time to tear through his t-shirt, the one he bought from the thrift store so he wouldn’t miss anything expensive. A whimper gets caught in his throat this time, because one of the nails scrape against, not his skin, but his nipple. He would’ve preferred the other option, because he feels blood running down from his chest to his stomach.

It shushes him, petting through his hair, and the fingers the nails are attached to grab at the buttons on his jeans. Steve pants and he sweats as he watches it give up and begin ripping through denim. A cheap pair of pants turned rags in seconds, pieces still holding on around his legs but not even close to enough to hold a piece of dignity. It’s **indecent** , like something Madonna would wear on stage for shock.

Steve watches as it grabs at Billy’s dick and gets close. He feels a hang gripping his thigh before he sees it, too distracted by what’s going to come to him soon. He prepared for this all day. He wanted to make sure he would feel good, even if the pain would feel good, too. He didn’t want to explain to a hospital that a demon decided he was going to feed it tonight, since it’s a full moon and all.

His mouth hangs open and he tries to hold back the burst coming from him when Billy’s dick breaches him. The first time he’s actually spoken follows it quick, “Fuck!” With a few repeats of that before he hisses, “Billy!” Because he **saw** the glint of blue between the black. He smacks its shoulder and the black swallows the blue once again.

There wasn’t anything sweet about the hard thrusts into him that makes him grateful that he doesn’t own a cervix, or the dig of tree bark in the shoulders and the back of his head when he throws it back and lets it almost hang. He grunts as he’s pushed upward and at every slam of its hips against his ass, landing so flush and flat that it feels so **inhumanly** good because he feels like his guts are being shaken up. His body vibrates at every go, eyes snapping shut at every snap forward of its body. Its throwing all of the weight in Billy’s body and then some, it feels like, into it all. It’s body-wrecking, bone-breaking, and mind-numbing all together at once. A fatal combo and, Steve doesn’t last long.

He comes messily and his cum runs down his own dick, splattered also against his stomach.

It doesn’t come until hours later. When Steve’s body is numb and used, after he’s gone thrice more and the last two had been desert drought dry though still so **damn** good to feel anyways, that’s when it finally begins to empty out inside of him. Abnormally thick and plentiful, like it’s trying to paint Steve’s guts with a biological wedding dress, it feels Steve up and he’s sobbing because the ache in his stomach grows.

- _the seven sins are so much more savory_  
_than the seven virtues we’re supposed to crave_  
_and I don’t think I’ll ever want something more_  
_than his touch even when my soul is stained_  
_because Hell will be sweet if he’s there with me._

 

**Author's Note:**

> the little poetry shit at the beginning and ending are mine, I wrote it for creative writing and,, it's missing a huge chunk so that's probably why they don't make the best sense. 
> 
> I imagine incubus billy here, and tbh I think it's an AU that should def be explored upon. I'm working on a big fic (for me) rn about omega will and the funness of the 80's though, so, it might be a while until I write a good demon billy fic.


End file.
